Just Another Hellhole
by el spirito
Summary: You served in Venezuela. That was some rough bush." A look at how Jake Sully got injured and his relationship with his brother.set pre-movie. rated for some language and violence in the form of Jake-whump.
1. Chapter 1

It was raining again. Damn, he hated the rain. Seemed like that was all it ever did here. He let his head fall back against the tree he was sitting alongside, squinting up at the huge drops that always managed to fall down his shirt, trickling coldly down his back or chest. He sighed and looked at the other men squatting with him. Some of them were sitting stoically, those who, like him, had been there longer, while the others looked as miserable as he felt.

"Hey Riley, you look like you're gonna cry," Sully called teasingly. Riley looked up and smiled faintly. He had been shipped in only two days before, and Sully knew how rough it could be the first few months.

"No sir, that's the rain," Riley responded, and Sully laughed.

"Good," he said, taking a swig of water from his canteen.

"Sully." Jake looked up, barely catching the half bar of chocolate that flew towards him.

"Thanks," he said with a smile, raising the chocolate at Riley before taking a bite.

"Round up, men, we move out in five," Sarge bellowed suddenly, and Jake grinned when Riley groaned.

"Don't be such a candy ass," he called to Riley, who flipped him off good-naturedly. Sully stood, stretching, and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair before slinging his semi-automatic over one shoulder.

"Come on men, hustle it up," Sarge ordered. The men, a small unit of twelve, finished gathering their things and stood in front of Sarge in two lines of six, unflinching despite the torrential downpour.

"Move out!"

They moved swiftly through the undergrowth, hacking at it with their machetes when necessary, otherwise just tromping through the dense jungle.

"Hey Riley, you hear about Sully there?" Banks asked suddenly, and Riley looked at Jake.

"What about him?" Sully rolled his eyes, continued walking.

"He's fearless. Crazy. Man has no sense of self-preservation."

"Corporal Sully?"

"Hell yeah, Corporal Sully. He's got a reputation for pulling insane stunts. You'd better watch your back around him." Sully grinned when he heard Riley gulp audibly.

"Don't listen to Banks, Riley, I'm the most reliable man out here," he said, giving Riley a sly look that clearly contradicted what he was saying.

"Yeah, the most reliable man my-"

Gunfire erupted from the trees, completely cutting off whatever Banks had been in the middle of saying.

"Down, down!" Sarge yelled, even though most of the men were already hitting the ground.

"Riley! Get your ass on the ground!" Banks screamed even as Sully launched himself at the smaller man. Bullets whizzed around them, the air filled with lead. Jake blinked, looking dazedly about him, lifting his head painfully. Banks was mouthing something at him, but everything seemed to echo and his thoughts were sluggish and dull. He looked to his left, saw Riley's open eyes staring at a point beyond his head, and suddenly Jake realized that there was a searing pain throughout his body and a warmth spreading over him.

"Oh, shi-"

xxxx

Tom unlocked the door to his apartment, setting his bag next to the door and pushing his voicemail button .

"_Hey Tom, it's Maggie. Sorry I missed you, give me a call when you get in." _Tom sighed and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"_Tommy, it's Mom."_

"It's Tom, Ma, how many times do I have to tell you?" Tom muttered, shutting the refrigerator door with his foot.

"_Listen, Tommy it's-it's your brother."_ Tom stopped dead, listening as his mother's voice cracked.

"_We haven't heard anything beyond that he's been wounded- Oh Tommy, just call me back when you get home? Please?"_

Taking a huge gulp of the water, Tom laid a steadying hand against the counter.

"Oh Jake, what the hell have you done now?" He muttered, running a shaking hand through his hair. He dialed his mother's number unsteadily, drumming nervous fingers on the marble countertop.

"Mom? It's Tom," he said as soon as the phone was picked up.

"Oh Tommy, I'm so glad you called."

"How's Jake? I want to know everything you do."

"We haven't heard much. We received the news this morning, only that he's been injured, badly enough that they're trying to stabilize him in a hospital in Brazil before bringing him back to the States."

"Okay, Mom? Tell me the name of the hospital. Yes, I can fly out today. No, I've got vacation days, it's fine." Hurriedly, Tom wrote the name of the hospital and hung up, then booked a flight to Rio de Janeiro.

xxxx

"Sully! Sully! Hey," Banks was yelling, and Jake blinked in confusion. Oh, yeah. Venezuela. Ambush. _Pain._

"Banks," he croaked, trying to lift himself up and failing. He managed to raise his head enough to see that Banks had found some shelter from the barrage of bullets that was continuing to surround them and started laboriously dragging himself forward in an attempt to reach him.

"Hey, just a bit further, almost there, Sully," Banks encouraged, returning gunfire over Sully's head. Jake was tiring far more rapidly than he normally did, gasping for air as he tried to move.

"Come on, Sully! Move your ass!" Sarge was yelling too now, but Jake's head was swimming and his chest felt crushed and his back was on fire, and there was no way in hell he was going to make it the ten feet to cover.

"Damn it Jake!" Banks' voice was suddenly louder, closer, and then Sully felt himself slung over someone's shoulders, pain erupting throughout his body.

"Banks," Jake slurred, his voice thick and raspy as Banks set him on the ground behind their meager cover. "Riley."

"I know, Sully. Riley's dead. Just hang on." Jake felt someone fumbling with his shirt, heard Banks swear under his breath. "Holy shit, Sully."Jake looked down, saw the blood coating his stomach and chest. Banks was yelling for Sarge and Jake felt as his hands started to shake, his breathing coming in gasps and pants as he came to a realization.

"Can't feel my legs, Banks," Sully muttered suddenly, voice rising in pitch. "Shit, I can't feel my legs!"

"It's okay, Sully, you're okay."

"I can't…shit…my legs! Can't…can't…" Things started to spin and blur together and nothing made sense anymore.

"…got two exit wounds…hang on Sully…we need a damn medic!...keep that pressure tight, Private…" Snatches of conversation made it to his ears, wove in and around the intense pain.

"Sully! Stay with me, Jake!" Jake could feel his breathing quicken, get more shallow, couldn't do anything about the tremors that spread the length of his body.

"He's going into shock. We gotta get him out of here, Sarge!"

"Corporal, there's a medic unit on its way, it's coming to get you outta here, you get me? You have to hang on, Sully, almost there'."

Staring up into the slate gray sky, Jake realized it was raining again. Maybe it had never stopped. He hated the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews!

xxxx

Security was a bitch. Not that Tom had been expecting anything different, but it was a long and tedious process. Strip searches had long since become mandatory, and that meant getting to the airport three hours early and going into another room with someone feeling you up while someone else rifled through your bag. Finally satisfied that you weren't planning on blowing anyone up, they let you go sit and wait for a few hours before making you go through an x-ray before actually boarding the plane.

Having made it through security, Tom sat on the plane, morosely staring out the window. His leg jiggled up and down rapidly, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He was completely oblivious to the looks of annoyance coming his way from the man next to him.

Jake had joined up straight out of high school. Tom remembered well how stressed he had been, applying to the top colleges in the country, taking tests left and right. His twin had had no such issues. Jake had come home from school one day and announced that as soon as he turned 18, he would be joining the Marines.

"Jake Sully, you will do no such thing!" Mom had yelled, and Jake had laughed, enveloping his mother in his huge embrace. Though they were identical, Jake had always seemed bigger than Tom, bigger than everyone, really. His personality was refreshingly straightforward and honest, and though he wasn't the smartest kid in the school, he was by far the most admired.

"Ma, if it'll make you feel better, I'll graduate first and then join up. How's that?"

"Jake, you know how I feel about the military! Why don't you apply to Washington State University? I'm sure you could get in there. You could study military science if you're that serious-"

"Mom, you know I'm not much of a scholar," Jake had laughed. "I play sports, Ma. I box. I don't get As or do well on tests. This is what I want to do. This is what I _need_ to do. I'm joining up either way, but I hope that eventually I can do it with your blessing."

Mom had cried for a week straight, refused to talk to Jake and mostly ignored Tom as well. Jake had continued to slowly work on his mother, doing the dishes without being told or taking the garbage out, not pushing her, and by the end of the week she had come around.

"Hey. Excuse me." Tom was startled out of his ruminations by the man next to him, who had apparently decided that he'd had enough.

"Huh?" Tom asked, startled, and the man glared.

"Stop shaking," he ordered, and Tom suddenly realized that he had continued to tap nervously.

"Oh. Sorry," he muttered, consciously sitting still and forcing himself not to move. The other man turned away again, and Tom laid back against the headrest and sighed. Two more hours and he would be with his brother for the first time in three years.

xxxx

"Sully? Corporal Sully? You with us?"

Jake had no idea where he was, noises that were both loud and overwhelming sounding in his ears. Everything seemed blurry and thick, like he was underwater.

"You're on a medevac, Sully. We're taking you to the hospital, okay? Can you hear me? I want you to squeeze my fingers if you can hear me." Jake groaned and managed to weakly squeeze, and the medic nodded approvingly.

"Good job, soldier. You're doing good, keep it up." The pain had sort of begun to fade into the background, still there but less biting.

"BP's holding at 90/50, pulse 110, respirations 20 and shallow."

"I'm getting rales in the left lung, might have a puncture, looks like the second bullet could have nicked a kidney or the small intestine or both. Third bullet's still in there, looks damn close to the spine."

Jake tried to rally enough strength to say something, to ask about his back and the paralysis he was experiencing, but he was unable to do more than grunt painfully.

"Hey, save your energy, Sully. ETA's twenty minutes, and you've gotta hang on." Things started to fade in and out as black spots invaded his vision, and breathing was suddenly hard and painful.

"Okay, hang on corporal," the medic said, and a mask was placed over his mouth and nose. It helped, lessened the pain that had come on him so suddenly, but it was still hard, harder than he ever thought it could be to simply breathe.

Everything hurt.

"Respirations are down and he's getting cyanotic. We've gotta intubate." They were speaking, throwing out medical jargon that meant nothing to him, but he could hear the worry in their voices.

"BP's dropping, pulse is erratic."

"I want some epinephrine in his line. Sully? Sully, you still with us?" Jake tried to moan, or move his head, or _something_, but his body would not respond and he was forced to endure a painful knuckle to his sternum, unable to do anything about it.

"He's unresponsive to pain stimuli."

"Come on Sully, hang with us buddy."

"Shit, he's gone into v-fib."

"Damn it, come on Sully…Sully…hang on…"

Everything faded. Nothing hurt.

xxxx

"Hi, my name is Tom Sully. I'm here for Jake Sully. He's a corporal, wounded yesterday." The hospital was big, pristine. The woman at the desk, in an army uniform, looked intently at her computer screen, tapped at the keyboard a few times.

"Jake Sully…Sully. He's in room 428. If you walk down the hall and turn left, you'll hit the elevators. Take them up to the fourth floor and a nurse can help you from there."

"Thanks," Tom murmured, walking in the direction indicated. He was nervous. Nervous to see Jake again after so many years, nervous to see his brother hurt. Reaching the fourth floor, he stepped off the elevator and headed straight to the nurse's station.

"I'm here for Jake Sully," he said, and the nurse didn't even have to look at her screen.

"You look just like him. Twins?" Tom nodded, though he thought it was obvious what the answer was. "Well, he's in pretty rough shape and he's being closely monitored right now. You can head down to his room, and I'll let the doctor know you're here."

"Thank you. This way?" Tom asked, pointing down the hall, and the woman nodded. The hallway was long and foreboding, stark white walls and gray floor tiles, the smell of antiseptic and what Tom could only guess was death. Tom walked slowly, taking a deep breath as he approached the room where his brother was fighting for his life.

428. There it was. He gently shoved the door open and stepped inside.

"Aww hell, Jake," Tom murmured, heart pounding in his ears. His brother was lying still as death, pale, lifeless. It was entirely unlike the boisterous, intense man Tom knew. He stood awkwardly for a moment and just absorbed the sight before him, the bandages peeking out of the blanket, the tubes running seemingly everywhere, into Jake's wrist, out from under the blanket, into his chest, down his throat, up his nose. Awkwardly, he sat in the chair next to his brother's hospital bed, gently snaked a hand over Jake's, careful not to touch any of the IV lines running into his hand.

"Um, hey Jake. It's, uh, it's Tommy," Tom said, uncertain of where to begin. Even after all the scenarios he'd played out in his head, all the ways he'd imagined meeting up with Jake after all this time, he had no idea what to do in this situation, had never, even imagined it to be this way. He didn't know what to say.

"Got yourself pretty beat up this time, huh? You haven't looked this bad since we wrecked Jimmy Randall's car," he muttered, smiling at the memory.

Senior year of high school, they'd gone off-roading with a friend, and Tom's suboptimal driving skills had resulted in an accident. Said accident had included a busted knee for Jake, cracked ribs and a concussion for Jimmy, and a fractured wrist for Tom. It really wasn't funny, not at all, but it had developed into a sort of joke between them, mostly because Tom persisted in telling everyone that Jake had been equally responsible in the fiasco. That, and Mom had taken it upon herself to paddle them once they were both well enough to tolerate it. Looking back at it, Tom knew that they shouldn't have laughed at their mother's attempts to discipline them in their senior year of high school, should have shown her more respect and understanding. But their mother, small and slender as she was, trying to literally smack some sense into them, had left both boys consciously struggling to hide their laughter.

With a sigh, Tom shifted in his seat and wished for the days when he and Jake made trouble and mischief without a care in the world. Taking a long look at the still man in front of him, he knew that those days wouldn't be returning.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, thanks again for all of the reviews! I really appreciate them.

xxxx

Tom didn't realize he had dozed off until he jerked awake to find the Jake's doctor entering the room. He stood quickly, scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and glanced wearily at the physician. He was a short man, only just beginning to bald, a stethoscope draped around his neck and a chart in one hand. The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Do I meet your approval?" He asked, and Tom could feel the blush rising to his cheeks. He hadn't been consciously scoping the doctor out, but considering how inexplicably protective he felt of Jake just now, he realized that he probably seemed pretty standoffish.

"Yeah, sorry. How is he?" When it came to Jake, Tom had never beaten around the bush. The doctor peered at him for a second before looking down at the chart.

"Why don't we step outside and discuss this further?" The doctor suggested, and Tom nodded, though he was hesitant to leave his brother for any length of time. Upon entering the hallway, the doctor led him over to a padded bench and waved a hand at it. Tom sat, bouncing his knee up and down as he waited for the doctor to talk.

"First off, my name's Doctor Henley, and I'm the physician in charge of your brother's care." _I know, I know, get on with it…_Tom had to make a conscious effort not to sigh in frustration when Henley took a deep breath and let it out before continuing.

"Your brother's injuries are severe, Mr. Sully."

"Tom." _They're severe? Wow, I couldn't tell. Moron._

"Tom, then." The doctor seemed irritated. Tom could care less. "As I was saying, Jake's injuries are severe. He was shot three times in total, and his left lung was punctured. We repaired the lung and reinflated it, but he's still on the vent to assist in his breathing and give the lung a chance to heal. His small intestine was also nicked, but that was relatively easy to fix. He's still in bad shape, and we're keeping a close eye on his vitals, but if he makes it a few more days without complications, we'll transfer him back to the states." Tom took a deep breath. All in all, not so bad. Well, bad, but not as bad as it could be. Jake could get better. He could get past this.

"Tom, I'm going to be perfectly level with you." Tom's stomach sank. There was _more?_ What else could there be? "Assuming your brother has no further complications, the biggest problem your brother is facing, long-term, is that one of the bullets hit his spinal cord and caused extensive damage."

Tom felt his breath catch. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that as of right now, your brother is paralyzed from the waist down. Without numerous more surgeries, he'll remain that way." Tom blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"Numerous surgeries? Holy shit," Tom whispered. He took a moment to collect himself, willed away the rising, unexpected tears, and took a deep breath. "That's okay. Jake's a tough kid, he can handle them." Jake hated it when Tom called him kid, had protested when he was younger by loudly proclaiming that being a few minutes younger didn't make him a kid. When he was older, he mostly let his fists do the protesting.

"Tom, it's- it isn't that that's the main issue here. The course of treatment required to get him completely rehabilitated has a pretty steep price."

"But that's covered, right? I mean, his insurance, or, hell, the _government_ will take care of that right?"

"I'm afraid not." Tom didn't say anything for a minute.

"How steep?" He asked finally. He had a good paying job. Jake would have some benefits coming, Mom could probably pitch some in. Hell, he had great credit. He could take out loans if he had to.

"Upwards of 750,000." Tom's mouth literally dropped open and he stood abruptly.

"Are you kidding me? Are you-" Tom broke off for a moment, paced back and forth with grit teeth and clenched fists. When he spoke, it was with a calm that was unsettling.

"So what you're saying to me is that my brother, who got his damn spine shot up, in defense of his damn country, isn't going to get his legs back," he said, and Henley nodded with a slight hesitance.

"Even though we have the technology to do so."

Another nod.

"Because it costs too damn much."

Nod.

"This is bullshit."

"Tom-"

"You know what? I don't need to hear this. I'm going to go in there and sit with my brother, my _paralyzed_ brother. He's going to get better. And then he's going to walk again."

Tom stormed back down the hallway and stepped into Jake's room. The variety and the magnitude of the emotions that were running through his body were overwhelming, and Tom practically collapsed into the chair by Jake's bed, hands trembling as he brought them to his face and wiped away a few errant tears. He hadn't broken down for years, had managed to look at situations with a scientific indifference, had trained himself to look at situations logically. Problem leads to brainstorm leads to course of action leads to positive result. It had worked, mostly.

But now, staring at his hurt and _broken_ brother, knowing with a sudden horrifying certainty that life wasn't just unfair, it was a bitch, he felt himself entirely breaking down, seemingly one cell, one organ at a time. Nothing was clear anymore and Jake, his one, life-long constant, was going to be changed, forever. He knew Jake. He knew that his brother needed his legs like he needed air, knew his love of adventure, his love of movement…

xxxx

When Jake and Tommy were in 4th grade, they had gone on a field trip to the botanical museum in Seattle. It was one of the best in the country. Tommy had stared in awe at the plants, eyes wide and roving, eagerly trying to take in every plant he saw. There were flowers, roses and tulips and daisies, and there were trees, bamboo and maples and elms. He knew what they were from the books he'd read, had spent hours poring over pictures of them, wondering what it would feel like to touch a sunflower or the bark of a tree.

Jake had seemed equally taken with them, staring with a half grin on his face.

"I want to study these," Tommy had said, "I want to touch them."

Jake had turned and smirked, eyes blazing with mischief and sincerity.

"I want to climb them."

xxxx

Tom Sully fell apart in a small hospital room, sobs wracking his body, heaving cries mixing with heart rate monitors and ventilators, with what had become the sounds of his brother's life.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks, as always, for all the reviews, and this chapter has the F-bomb once. Consider yourselves warned.

When Tom Sully opened his eyes, he was startled to notice that sunlight was streaming through the windows, casting a golden hue over his still sleeping brother. He scrubbed at his eyes, rubbing the sleep and dried tears from them, and slowly stood. He winced as his back cracked, and he scowled at the chair responsible. To be honest, he was surprised that he'd slept the whole night through, considering. He stretched his arms over his head before bringing one hand down onto his brother's short-shaved head.

"Hey, Jake," he murmured, running his thumb over Jake's forehead. "You feel like waking up today? Once you do, we can take you home. And if I know you, I know that you're going to want to get the hell outta here, huh?" Jake didn't stir, and he sighed, paced once around the room. The doctor that he talked to earlier walked in, looking disapprovingly at Tom.

"When was the last time you ate, Mr. Sully?" He asked, and Tom shrugged.

"Had some peanuts on the plane ride," he said, smirking slightly. His smile faded as he realized how much like Jake that expression made him look. Not that they didn't look alike anyway.

"Look, Tom, I suggest that you head down to the cafeteria and get yourself something to eat, okay?"

"I'm not leaving my brother."

"Jake is still unconscious, and you need to take care of yourself. As unsettling as it would be for Jake to wake up without you there, I'm sure it would be worse for him if he woke up and you were passed out on the floor next to him." Tom sighed heavily and ran his tongue over his teeth, jaw tightening.

"Fine. But if he wakes up while I'm down there, I want you to come find me. Are we clear?" The doctor actually chuckled a bit, and Tom realized that he probably dealt with bull-headed patients and family members all the time.

"We're clear. Now get out of here."

Tom walked slowly down the hallway, wincing as still sore leg muscles cramped ever so slightly. The cafeteria was small but well stocked, and Tom soon sat down with a turkey sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water. Glancing around the small dining area, Tom felt slightly out of place, as everyone else appeared to be soldiers of some form or other. He took a bite of his sandwich, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was, his stomach growling as he swallowed.

"And in other news, armed forces continue to take ground in Venezuela…" Tom paused, brow furrowed. Jake had been in Venezuela. Interest peaked, Tom looked up at the TV that was blaring the news. A serious looking news anchor was standing in front of a building, occasionally glancing down at a note card as she explained what was happening. Tom was only half listening, still munching on his sandwich, when the picture changed from the news anchor, to footage taken from the front lines.

The sandwich stopped suddenly, frozen between Tom's plate and his mouth as he stared. There was the sound of rapid gunfire and men shouting.

"What the hell?" He muttered quietly, feeling anger rising quickly to the surface and threatening to burst out. They were burning the jungle. Tom literally felt ill as he watched the leaves burning, the trees groaning as they fell to the ground. He stood abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. He looked around awkwardly, realized that everyone else was staring at him.

"You got a problem?" A man drawled, and Tom turned to face him. It was a burly man dressed in fatigues, also standing, his stance nothing less than threatening.

"Yeah I got a damn problem," Tom snarled back, glaring angrily at the man. "They're burning down the jungle! Don't they realize what they're doing? There are only a handful of rainforests left on this planet, and they're destroying one of them! And for what? For nothing!" More men were standing now, glaring dangerously at him, and the first man walked up to him, his face inches from Tom's.

"You'd better shut your mouth, hippie," he hissed, and Tom stood straighter, held eye contact with the man.

"Oh, really? Why's that? What're you going to do?" He knew he was baiting the other man, knew that he should just keep his mouth shut, but the emotions and events of the past few days were catching up with him, and he was _pissed._

"I'll start with your mouth, so I don't have to hear you talk anymore. Pull a few teeth, cut out your tongue. I'll move on to your eyeballs and then-"

"Edwards! That's enough. Get outta here, right now." Tom turned to see a man with one arm in a sling, also dressed in fatigues, staring sternly at the man who was apparently Edwards.

"We don't want that environmental shit here, hippie," Edwards hissed, shoving Tom roughly before stalking out of the room. His friends followed right after him, and the man who had come to his rescue looked Tom up and down before sitting at the table across from him. Tom sheepishly picked up his fallen chair and sat down heavily.

"Thanks," he said quietly, staring at the table instead of making eye contact.

"You've gotta by Sully's twin. Tommy, right?" Tom groaned and laughed.

"Tom, actually, but yeah." The man chuckled.

"Name's Jim Polanski. I was-am- your brother's sergeant. Your brother's a good man. Ornerier than hell, but a good man." Tom shook his head, laughing.

"Yeah, he's got a bit of a mischievous streak." Polanski looked at him.

"You do too, apparently." Tom felt color rising in his cheeks.

"Yeah. I do too."

"You know I only saved your ass because of Jake, right? You were asking for it, Sully."

"I know. I just- I was pissed, and-"

"And you look like shit. I'm guessing you haven't been taking very good care of yourself lately." Tom grinned and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

"Not the best, no," he said quietly.

"Well, your brother spoke highly of you," Polanski said, standing and patting his good hand on Tom's shoulder. "Keep yourself outta trouble, Sully." Tom smiled, then turned as a thought occurred to him.

"Your injury-were you-were you with my brother?" Polanski paused.

"Yeah. I was with your brother when he got hit and uh, helped get him to the helicopter. I got grazed right after that." Tom nodded, thinking that it was probably something more significant than a graze if it warranted a hospital stay and a sling, but didn't mention it.

"Thanks. For saving him." Polanski nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and walked away.

xxxx

As he rounded the corner, Tom was horrified to realize that there was a flurry of activity around his brother's room, alarm evident in the tone of those present.

"What's going on? What the hell is happening?" He demanded, catching the nearest nurse by the sleeve.

"He's waking up and he's really confused. We don't want to sedate him, but if we can't calm him down he might pull some stitches."

"Let me in. I can help." The nurse stared at him for a minute, then nodded tersely. She led her way through the flurry of nurses and doctors, pushing Tom right next to Jake's bed. Jake was thrashing madly, his eyes wild, screaming. Tom wondered briefly if Jake had ripped the vent tube out on his own, noticed the bleeding at his wrists from where the IVs had been.

"I can't feel them! I can't move! I can't fucking move!" Tom could see the veins standing out on his neck, his fists swinging dangerously.

"Jake! Jake, hey, hey, listen to me," he said, grabbing a flailing wrist. For a moment, Jake continued screaming, staring at Tom but not focusing, eyes roving madly.

"Jake! It's me, it's Tommy. You've got to calm down or you're gonna hurt yourself worse. Listen to me, little brother, calm down now," Tom murmured quietly, stroking his thumb over Jake's sweaty forehead.

"Tommy?" Jake gasped, chest heaving .

"Yeah, yeah it's me, little brother."

"Tommy," Jake repeated, gripping Tom's hand as if it were literally a lifeline.

"You're okay, you're okay, just calm down now," Tom whispered, staring in horror as tears leaked out of his brother's eyes.

"I can't feel 'em," Jake said, and Tom felt tears coming to his own eyes as he watched his strong, mischievous brother break down. "I can't feel them, Tommy."

"I know, it's okay now, it's okay."

Tom continued whispering to him as his brother was restiched, his chest tube checked, his IVs replaced. Jake kept murmuring "I can't feel them" over and over again, finally drifting off into an uneasy slumber as Tom stayed at his side, tears streaming down his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Jake groaned and lashed out in his sleep, hand waving erratically above his jerking head, muttering something under his breath. Tom took a deep breath and caught his brother's hand, easily grasping it and bringing it to rest at Jake's side. His brother's weakness was distressing. He'd developed a fever, probably helped along by his earlier outburst, and Tom found his stomach clenching as he watched Jake twitch and moan. Henley had tried to assure Tom that it wasn't entirely unexpected for a post-operative patient to develop a fever, but Tom could tell that the doctor was more worried than he was letting on.

"Hey, hey, easy little brother," Tom whispered, running a hand through his brother's sweaty hair. Jake settled slightly under his hand, his breathing evening out as he started to fall deeper into sleep.

He had never been in this situation before. Had never been the one that Jake depended on. Jake had always been strong and vibrant, and if he needed anything from Tom, it was usually a partner in crime. They'd held each other up over the years, leant on each other, but never before had one of them been so _broken_. Tom had no idea what to do. He couldn't do anything to just make this better.

Jake moaned again, head twitching slightly, and Tom stroked his forehead. "I'm here, Jake. Sleep. It's okay." As Tom sat there, whispering gently and quietly comforting his brother, he couldn't help but feel ashamed that that was the extent to which he could help Jake. He could only be there.

xxxx

When they were seven, Jake had come home from school itching one day. Their mother had been having a particularly bad week at work, and hadn't really noticed anything out of the ordinary. That she hadn't noticed wasn't actually entirely her fault, as Jake was notoriously fidgety anyway, but in the end it didn't really matter why she had or hadn't noticed. The boys continued to wrestle and roughhouse the whole day, and by the next morning, Jake's malady had not only spread to Tom, but had become obvious.

Chicken pox.

Their mother had been horrified, as chicken pox was a mostly eradicated disease, and one that was largely considered dangerous. She had hauled both boys to the doctor's office, barking at them not to scratch at any of the spots they'd developed. They'd sat in the back seat, side by side, discreetly itching and scratching their arms and legs and bellies, faces scrunched up in annoyance.

The doctor had prescribed lotion for them, given them some pills to take, and they'd been forced to submit to their mother's ministrations. Tom had giggled as he watched her smear the smelly lotion across Jake's back and arms, until it had been his turn.

Their mother had put them in separate rooms for the night, worried (and with good reason) that they wouldn't go to sleep otherwise. Tom had lain in bed, tears leaking from his eyes as he scratched at his arms and stomach, unable to reach his back, and lonely. He and Jake had been sharing a room their whole lives, and the sudden separation was somewhat devastating for him. When his door creaked open, he had quickly fallen still, afraid of being caught by his mom, who had promised stiff punishment for breaking the stern 'no itching' rule.

"Tommy?" Jake had whispered, and Tom dried his tears, sitting up.

"Yeah?" He had whispered back.

"Tommy, can you sleep?"

"Not really."

"Me neither. Is it cause of your back?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. I'll scratch yours if you scratch mine."

"Okay."

Their mother had found them the next morning, curled up in Tom's bed with raw and slightly bloody backs. Their promised punishment had never come, and instead their mother had taken work off, tending to both boys for the whole day.

xxxx

"Tom?" Tom looked up and smiled wanly at Henley.

"How's he doing, Doc?" The doctor rubbed at his eyes.

"He's stabilized. The fever is still hovering around 101, but it's down from this morning, so I'm confident that by the day after tomorrow, he should be ready to transfer out of here."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Not a problem."

Henley walked back out of the room, leaving Tom, once again, alone with his brother.

"Come on Jake, you gotta wake up," he said quietly, gripping Jake's warm hand in his own. To his surprise, Jake stirred and moaned, hazy eyes blinking slowly open.

"Tommy?" He whispered, and Tom grinned, nodded.

"Hell yeah, little brother. You with me?"

"Y-yeah. I'm with you." Tom didn't know what to say as Jake kept eye contact with him, tears making his eyes shine.

"It actually happened, didn't it?" Jake whispered finally, and Tom nodded.

"It actually happened," he affirmed, and Jake turned away.

"Damn it," he muttered quietly, voice cracking. "I'd thought-it seemed- I'd hoped it was a nightmare. That I'd wake up and I'd be able to move my own damn legs."

"Look, Jake, it might take time to get the money, but-"

"Don't, Tommy. We both know that it isn't going to happen. I just- shit man, what am I going to do? Where the hell do I go from here? My whole life has been the Marines and now-" He broke off, silent sobs wracking his body.

"I don't know, Jake, I don't know. But I do know that I'm going to be here for you, okay? We're going to figure this out, together, you and me. Just like old times, huh?" Tom murmured, gripping his brother's shoulder tightly. Jake shuddered under his touch as he tried to calm his breathing down.

"Like old times?" Jake said finally, and Tom nodded.

"Hell yeah, like old times."

"So you're gonna get your ass kicked and I'm gonna save it, huh?" Tom laughed, startled by his brother's levity. It was refreshing to hear the old trace of humor back in his brother's tone.

"Hey now, I've saved your ass a few times too," he protested mildly, grinning.

"Whatever makes you feel good about yourself, Tommy."

"It's Tom," Tom said good-naturedly.

"I know," Jake answered, grinning for the first time since Tom had seen him.

"You should probably get some rest. You keep it up and they'll ship you back home day after tomorrow." As he spoke, Jake yawned loudly, eyelids dropping to half-mast.

"Gettin' tired anyway, Tommy. Don't need you bossing me around." Tom laughed again, sobering as he watched his brother drift to sleep. Something told him that though things were looking up now, they'd only just reached the tip of the iceberg.


	6. Chapter 6

The flight home was uneventful, both better and worse than the flight to Brazil. It was better, in that security was fast and easy, better in that he wasn't crammed next to a complete stranger, better in that he wasn't going to see a brother that could be in any condition. It was worse in that he was sitting next to his brother's gurney which was bolted down to the floor, just one of dozens of men in various degrees of pain and confusion. Jake was heavily medicated to make the flight easier, pain meds and light sedatives flowing freely through his veins, and to see his brother so altered was unsettling. Half-open eyes peered blurrily around the aircraft, not focusing on anything, and despite the medications, Jake's mouth was a thin line, teeth grit. Tom recognized it for the sign of pain that it was.

"Hey, you doing okay?" He whispered, conscious of the other wounded soldiers around him. Jake blinked, but made no response. Tom sighed and gripped his brother's clammy hand, smiled slightly as he took in all the tiny scars scattered over Jake's knuckles. While in high school, Tom had spent all of his free time studying and performing science experiments and hanging out with the Biology Club. Jake had spent his time bare-knuckle boxing in back alleys and shady clubs. Tom knew about it, of course, but never told their mother though he suspected she'd known, and had felt absurdly proud of his brother for it. Seeing the reminder of his brother's tenacity and vivaciousness and physicality was heart-wrenching and made Tom feel physically ill.

"Sir? Sir, are you feeling well?" Tom blinked and looked up. One of the on-flight nurses was looking at him in concern, one hand resting on his shoulder. Tom opened his mouth to respond and found himself overwhelmed with a dizzying sense of nausea. He clamped his mouth shut and clapped a hand over it, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"Whoa, hang on," the nurse said, quickly thrusting a bowl in front of his face. Tom gripped it gratefully and promptly heaved what appeared to be the entire contents of his stomach into the bowl, pausing for a moment and shakily wiping his mouth before once again bending over the bowl, vomiting until he had nothing left to bring up. And then vomiting some more.

The nurse was rubbing his back, he realized once he could stop retching enough to actually think. She was also mumbling soothing words to him, mumbling that he would be okay and that everything was fine. He could feel the color and warmth rising in his cheeks as he nodded and sat up straight, holding the basin awkwardly.

"Here you go, I'll take that," the nurse said, and Tom could feel himself blushing again as he relinquished his hold on the bowl.

"Thanks, and, um, I'm sorry about that."

"Not a problem. Hey, you look like you could use some real sleep. We have a few open cots if you'd like to sleep in one…?" Tom looked at the nurse and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. It really _had_ been a little while since he'd gotten some real sleep. Then again, there was no way he was leaving Jake's side. If Jake woke up enough to realize where he was, he'd be confused as hell.

"I'm okay. Thanks again, though," Tom said, and the nurse smiled at him as if she hadn't suspected anything less.

"Alright then. I'll leave another basin for you just in case," she said, walking towards the small bathroom. Tom watched her go and turned back to his brother. To his surprise, Jake seemed more aware, eyes clear and focused.

"You 'k?" he whispered, and Tom grinned.

"Course I'm okay," he answered. Jake smiled weakly at him.

"Sounded like you were puking up your guts," he said, and Tom shook his head.

"You were hearing things, little brother." Jake actually managed a chuckle.

"Did you see a rat or something?" He asked, and Tom glared good-naturedly.

"Hey, I am so over that fear," he protested. "Besides, rats are a perfectly valid phobia." The plane bounced slightly as it hit some turbulence, and Jake winced.

"You need some more pain meds?" Tom asked, and Jake hesitated before nodding. Tom pressed the button next to his head and watched as Jake relaxed, sighing as his eyes drifted shut. Tom smiled and settled in.

xxxx

Junior year of high school, in between studying for tests and getting applications ready and attending rocketry camp, Tom had begun to realize that he wasn't seeing a lot of his brother. Tom generally got home in the evening, wiped out and exhausted, right about the time Jake was leaving the house. They saw each other in the mornings, traded casual greetings and rode to school together, and that was it.

One morning, Tom had started getting ready, fully expecting his brother to stumble out of his room five minutes before they had to leave as he always did, and had been surprised to find Jake in the bathroom, dabbing a wet washcloth gently at a bloodied patch over one eyebrow. One cheekbone was discolored, purple and black.

"Jake?" Tom had said, and Jake had turned, an awkward smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, Tommy," he'd answered, avoiding eye contact. "You wanna keep your voice down, bro? Mom might wake up."

"Fine," Tom hissed, his voice lower. "What the hell happened to you?"

"You can't say anything."

"I won't. Come on, Jake, what the hell?"

"I was- I was fighting last night. Other guy got a couple lucky swings in."

"Fighting? Where were you fighting?"

"There's a club downtown. I get money-"

"Seriously? Is this like Fight Club? Are you breaking rules telling me this?" Tom was seething. His brother pulled stupid stunts all the time, but this…

"No, it's not like damn Fight Club. I mean, I don't know if it's strictly legal, but who gives a shit? I go down there every night, I fight, I usually win, and I make bank. What's the problem?"

"The _problem_ is that you're breaking the law, and you're getting hurt? Look at yourself!" Jake finished with the washcloth and patted his face dry with a towel.

"This is the first time I've really gotten nailed in two weeks, Tommy! I'm a damn good fighter. Hell, you know that, I've been boxing for years." As he spoke, he picked up a small tube that Tom hadn't noticed before, squeezing something out of it and applying it to his cheek with a wince.

"_Concealer_? Seriously?"

"Shhh! You're gonna wake the whole damn neighborhood! This crap does the job, okay? Now shut up!" Tom had shut up, watched his brother smear makeup over his bruises, and gone to school like nothing had happened. That night, he had pushed aside his weariness and followed his brother out the door. He'd only walked a few blocks when Jake had stopped and turned.

"Damn Tommy, you make more noise than the dog! No wonder you get your ass kicked so much," Jake had said, but there hadn't been any malice behind the words, and he'd stopped to let Tom catch up.

"I am not louder than the dog," Tom had grumbled, and Jake had thrown his head back and laughed. Their dog was close to 17, and seemed to be asthmatic, wheezing loudly with every breath. Watching it try to stalk cats was absolutely hilarious. "And how would that contribute to my ass getting kicked anyway?" When Jake had ignored the question, Tom had silently celebrated that he'd gotten one on his brother.

"Okay, when we get there, don't talk to anybody, okay? They'll try to get you to take bets, but just ignore them. And don't take anything from them either, okay? No drinks, and sure as hell no food."

"Wow, Jake, I'm not a five year old."

"No, but you don't get out too often either, geek boy."

They got to the club and Jake escorted Tom to a seat before heading off somewhere to get changed. Half an hour and many denied propositions later, Tom watched in awe as Jake came out and completely massacred a man twice his size.

After it was over, Tom and Jake walked home together, Jake holding an ice pack to his eye, Tom completely amazed.

"You were pretty awesome, Jake," Tom said finally. Jake had laughed.

"Yeah, kicked ass and took names, huh?"

"Jake, seriously. I knew you were good, but _damn_ you're good!"

"Don't you forget it, Tommy. And don't you tell Mom, either."

"I won't, Jake. But you get yourself beat up, and I'm gonna do something about it."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I don't know, Jake, but something. I'm not just going to sit by and watch you get hurt." Jake laughed, clapped the hand not full of ice on Tom's shoulder.

"Glad to know you've got my back."

xxxx

"Hey, Tommy?" Jake said, his voice quiet. Tom looked up, startled.

"I'm still glad, you know."

"Glad? About what?"

"Glad that you've still got my back. I, um, I know I haven't been the-the best brother lately. I'm just glad that you came."

"Jake, I will always come. You hear me? I don't care what happens, I will always come."

"Girl," Jake answered weakly, wearing that familiar smirk. Tom grinned, rubbed Jake's short cropped hair.

"Love you too, little brother."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this has taken awhile! Between a bit of writer's block and a buttload of homework, I didn't get this out as fast as I would have liked.

xxxx

"There you go, easy now," someone murmured, and Jake struggled not to groan, clenching his teeth as his body was jostled. He managed to pry his eyes open and immediately shut them again, the bright lights simultaneously confusing and hurting him.

"Hey bro, it's okay. They're going to get you situated really soon, okay? Just hang on a few minutes." The clouds of confusion seemed to be penetrated by that familiar voice, and Jake grasped onto it with everything he had.

"Tommy?"

"Yep, we're home, Jake. We're back in the States."

"Home." It came out breathy and maybe desperate, but it had been a long time since Jake had been able to call anyplace home, and a hell of a lot longer than that since he'd had a home with people he loved waiting for him.

"Yeah, we're home. I've got to leave now, let them get you settled, and then I'll be back, okay?" Jake took a deep breath and winced at the pain, gripped his brother's hand tightly in quiet confirmation. Then the comforting hand was gone, and Jake tried to keep his breathing steady as he felt himself shifted and prodded. He felt a BP cuff squeezed around his arm and the mask over his face swapped with irritating tubes stuck up his nostrils. He waved a hand to get them out of the way and found it held by someone.

"Hey corporal, you need to relax, okay? That's there to help you, let it alone. How's the pain?" Jake groaned in response.

"Okay, we'll give you something to help with that, just hang on a second."

A moment later, Jake sighed as he felt the warm rush of pain medication, and then everything grew hazy and he let himself drift away.

xxxx

Tom walked quickly into the apartment, dropping his keys on the counter. He took a quick shower, feeling clean for the first time in a week, and walked into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the hospital. Looking through his almost-bare fridge, he finally made a salad with what little bio-enhanced lettuce he had left, sitting down at his counter and sifting quickly through the mail. Not that anyone got a lot of mail anymore.

Finishing the salad, Tom stood and clicked the button on his voicemail machine, groaning as the cheerful voice announced that he had 15 unheard messages. There were a few from concerned family friends who had heard of Jake's injury, another call from Maggie, this one less polite, and then one that took him completely by surprise.

"Mr. Sully, this is Ken Riley from the Avatar Program calling regarding your application. It was thoroughly and carefully reviewed, and you have been chosen to continue on in the application process. Please contact our office within the next week to set up an interview. Congratulations on making it this far and good luck with your interview. We look forward to hearing from you."

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair, uncertain whether to rejoice or cry. The call had come only two days before, so he still had time. He still had time to follow the thing he'd been dreaming of since he was a little kid, the thing he'd devoted years to achieving. On the other hand, Jake was in the hospital, and his brother was sure as hell going to need him in the upcoming weeks and months. Tom wasn't sure he could balance both. Then again, it was only an interview. His chances of getting into the program were still small.

Taking a deep breath, Tom picked up the phone and dialed.

xxxx

The day Tommy got his acceptance letter was the day Jake got suspended from school. The letter, from Georgetown, would be posted at midnight, and Tommy had decided to stay up until then. Naturally, Jake had decided to stay up and keep him company.

"So what happens if you don't get in?" Jake had asked, spinning in the computer chair as Tommy nervously paced around the room. Jake was trying to act disinterested, but he wasn't being very convincing.

"Don't even say that," Tommy had groaned in reply. He had applied to a few backup schools, but if he was going to accomplish his goal –to get to Pandora and to study there- then he had to get into Georgetown. It was a simple as that. "You're still joining up?"

"Hell yeah," Jake had replied, grinning and whirling around in the chair again. "None of this waiting around shit." Tommy had laughed at that, checked his college account once again to see if the decision had been posted yet.

"So you get in and we won't see much of each other, huh?"

"We won't see each other anyway, Jake. If you're in the Marines, it isn't likely you'll be stateside. Where do you think you'll go?"

"I don't know. There's a lot going on in Israel, North Korea. Maybe Colombia. But that's a few years away, gotta get through basic and maybe some more specific training too." There had been a moment of silence, with both boys still.

"I'm worried about you," Tommy had said finally, quietly.

"Don't be, bro. I'll be fine. And you're gonna get into your program and end up on Pandora, just like you always dreamed, and I'll get to tell all of the guys in my unit that I've got a brother in the Alpha Centauri system."

Tommy had laughed. "I didn't even know you knew that."

"Hey, I do pay some attention. It's midnight." Jake had stood up and motioned to the computer, watched with a face half happy and half sad as his brother read the letter and stood up, arms raised over his head.

"I'm in! I got in!" Jake had whistled and clapped his brother on the back, cracked open the whiskey he had procured and saved for the occasion.

It had seemed perfect, both boys' futures going in the direction they were hoping for.

The next day, Jake had punched a boy in the face, followed him to the floor and continued beating on him until four teachers had bodily forced him off.

"What the hell was that about?" Tommy had demanded as soon as he got home. Jake was sitting morosely in his room, dried blood still on his knuckles. Tommy suspected that their mother had sent him straight to their room without even letting him clean up. Jake had shrugged.

"He looked at me wrong."

"He _looked_ at you wrong? What the hell is wrong with you, Jake?"Jake had shrugged again, looked away.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

Tommy had recognized the signs. It wasn't often that Jake got so petulant and stubborn, but once he did there was no talking to him. The mumbled sentence fragments, the tense body language, the unusually serious eyes…Tommy knew better than to try to talk to his brother until he was ready.

It hadn't been until later, after Jake had been allowed to eat before being banished back to his room, after his mom melted down and cried, worried about her son, that Tommy had realized that maybe the two events, the letter and the fight, were related. And suddenly, he was lonely and scared for the first time. He and Jake weren't going to see each other, maybe for years. They were going to be in different countries, hell, maybe even different _planets_, and everything would be changing. He had tried to remember the last time he and Jake hadn't seen each other for longer than a week or two and had been unable to, and suddenly completely understood Jake's need to punch something.

Instead, he had snuck into Jake's room and sat on the desk chair.

"I get it," he had said, and they had sat in silence, words no longer needed.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So I know it's been forever and a day, sorry guys!

xxxx

Jake groaned as he slowly fought his way to consciousness, the pain that had been held at bay by medication and sedatives suddenly making itself very much known.

"Jake?" Someone said, and he felt a hand settle on his, something stroking around the IV port in his hand. He blinked his eyes open finally, peering blearily at someone he soon realized was his mother.

"Mom?" He muttered, and she nodded, brushing a hand through his hair and settling on his cheek.

"Hi baby," she whispered, and Jake managed a weak smile.

"Mom," he muttered again. Where was Tommy? Why the hell did everything hurt so much?

"Oh sweetheart," Mom said quietly, her voice cracking. "I am so, so sorry, baby." Jake was disconcerted to notice through the painful haze that she was crying, sobs shaking her whole body as she bent over him.

"'M okay," he mumbled, lifting a heavy hand to rest on her back. She continued to sob, fisting her hands into his gown, shoulders heaving. Jake felt awkward, trying to stroke her back as well as he could, wincing as a spike of pain shot through his chest. He hadn't cried since the accident had happened, at least not that he could remember (he wasn't sure what had happened while he'd been out of it), and here his mother was blubbering over him. What was he supposed to do?

"Jake, it's okay to let it out," his mother said finally, sitting upright and wiping her smeared mascara from her cheeks. Jake grit his teeth. He didn't want to let it out, and he sure as hell didn't want to let it out in front of his mother. No way.

"'M okay," he repeated, and then there was another bolt of pain that stole his breath away and made him whimper despite his best efforts.

"Oh, you're in pain, hang on a second," Mom said, and then she was crying again as she hit the call button, shoulders shaking as she turned away from him.

"Mom, stop…please," Jake rasped out. He coughed heavily, groaning at the resulting pain, and his mother gripped his hand. At least she had stopped crying.

"I'm sorry, Jake, I'm sorry," she said, and Jake wasn't sure if she was apologizing, again, for his injury, or if she was apologizing for crying all over him. His musings were interrupted when a nurse entered the room and injected something into his IV port, and then the world fell away against all his efforts to remain awake.

xxxx

The interview wasn't going as well as Tom had been hoping. He was distracted, unable to get away from the thought of Jake lying broken and crumpled in a hospital bed, writhing in pain and trying not to scream…

"Mr. Sully?"

Tom looked up, startled. Ken Riley was looking at him in concern, one leg crossed and a data pad in hand.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry," he stuttered finally, sitting up straighter and feeling the color rise in his cheeks.

"Mr. Sully, is there something the matter? If there is something going on that you consider more important than this program, than I suggest you go take care of it."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Riley. My, uh, my brother is in the hospital, and I'm concerned about him. I'll try to focus more clearly on the interview. My apologies."

Riley wasn't as heartless as he was trying to appear, and he frowned when Tom spoke.

"Oh. I'm sorry for my inconsideration. Is your brother going to recover?"

Tom shrugged, trying to hold his emotions in.

"Eventually, I hope. I am sorry. Should we continue with the interview?"

Riley settled back in his chair, peering intently at Tom. He appeared to be sizing him up.

"Actually, I think I have what I need. Thank you for coming, and you'll hear within two weeks of our decision."

"Thank you sir, have a good day," Tom said, standing up and extending his hand forward.

"You too, Tom, and I hope that your brother gets well soon."

"As do I," Tom said, then walked out the door.

xxxx

Jake was _pissy_. As soon as Tom walked in, he knew that his brother was mad, and not just mad but fuming.

"You should've been here this morning," he grumbled. "Mom was crying all over me and then they came and knocked me out _again_, and I am getting sick and tired of it in here. Why can't they just give me some damn pain pills and send me home?"

Tom helped Jake sit more uprightly against his pillows and settled into the chair next to Jake's bed.

"You know that you aren't ready to go home, Jake. Your lung is still healing and they're continuing to watch your urine output-"

"Could you not talk about my urine, please?" Jake snapped, and Tom hid a smile.

"The point is, little brother, that you are nowhere near ready to go. So just hang in here and try not to drive the nurses insane."

"Easy for you to say. I'm stuck in this bed and I don't like daytime TV and I don't want to watch a movie and there's _nothing_ to do."

Tom sighed and cradled his head in his hands, not wanting to think about how likely it was that his brother was going to be stuck, if not in a bed than at least in a wheelchair, for the rest of his life.

"What do you want to do then, Jake?" He asked, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye.

"I want-" Jake's voice stopped suddenly, grew softer. "I want to go for a run."

Tom felt a lump rising in his own throat as he found himself ruffling Jake's hair, uncertain of what he should say.

"I want to go bowling. I want to go golfing. I want to be able to walk to the damn bathroom on my own."

"Jake-" Tom started without any idea where he was going.

"Fuck," Jake whispered lightly, clenching his fists in the blanket. "_Fuck."_

"Jake," Tom said again, but Jake shook his head, jaw clenching and tears streaming down his face.

"I can't _move_, Tommy. What the hell am I supposed to do? I get out of here, and then what? I don't have a home here. I haven't been stateside in years and I don't have anywhere to go. I'm going to have to live with Mom, damn it, and I'm going to have to rely on her to do everything for me. Even if I can get in a wheelchair, I don't have a career anymore. What does a fucking crippled marine do?"

Tom leant over and gathered his brother into his arms, mindful of the tubes and the wires and the bandages, tucking his brothers head to his own shoulder, smelling the clean hospital smell of his hair and feeling the minute trembles running through his brother's body. He couldn't help but feel like he'd been through this before, but this time was so horribly _consuming_-This time he knew that Jake was understanding for the first time the full ramifications of what was happening to him.

"We'll get through this. You'll live with me, okay? No way in hell I'm letting you live with Mom. I love her to death, but we both know that neither of us wants to live with her again. And you're going to be able to get around. You've still got the upper body strength of a beast, and that's not going to change, so don't think of yourself as helpless, you understand me?"

Tom sat back from his brother and held him at arm's length.

"Look at me, Jake. _Look at me._"

Jake finally lifted his head and looked into his brother's face.

"You're going to be fine. You're going to be the finest _fucking_ cripple the Marines have ever seen, you hear me? They're going to wish they could have you back."

Jake snorted and raised a hand to wipe away the snot that was dripping lazily down his face.

"Hell yes they will."

Tom grinned and playfully punched his brother in the shoulder, painfully surprised and proud of the strength in the punch that Jake returned.

"I brought a deck of cards. Let's see if that poker face of yours got any better in Venezuela," Tom said finally.

Jake threw back his head and laughed.

xxxx

Tom left to go home eventually, and Mom came back. This time, Anna Sully was over her crying phase. She'd talked to Tommy about Jake, knowing that he'd have more insight into his twin than anyone else, and had decided that she could be a hard-ass if that's what Jake needed. And looking at her stubborn, slightly broken son, she knew that that was definitely what he needed.

"Mom, you don't have to stay," Jake repeated for the fourth time, and Anna shook her head.

"I'm staying, Jake, so why don't you just shut your mouth and close your eyes and get some rest, okay?"

"Mom?"

"Yeah, Jake?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now get some sleep."

Jake nodded and shut his eyes, and soon his breathing evened out and Anna knew her baby was asleep. She set her knitting down and just looked at him for a few moments; the angular jaw and the straight nose he'd inherited from his father, the eyes that were framed by long lashes and that looked full of mischief and orneriness when he was awake, the lips that were turned down ever so slightly, the ears that curved in close to his head.

He jerked suddenly, whimpered a bit, and Anna knew the classic signs of one of his nightmares. She gently stroked his hair, thumbed his forehead, watched as he settled down until he was sleeping peacefully again. Anna smiled ruefully. Even asleep, her boy knew how to make her worry.

xxxx

The twins had come too early. Anna had been lying down (bedrest was supposed to help, but it wasn't enough and she was certain that she'd done something wrong) when she'd felt a dampness between her legs and spreading down, and she knew instinctively that her water had broken. She'd shouted for Daniel (because this was before he'd left her with two newborn sons to run away with his gym instructor) and he'd come in red-faced and worried, then called an ambulance and sat by his wife, one hand clenched in hers as the other played with his eyebrow, twirled a bit of hair.

The doctors were concerned. They tried to hide it, of course, but she'd heard a nurse whisper something about a 'baby in distress' and they were going to perform an emergency C-section. She was scared, terrified even, but Daniel had kept his grasp on his hand, had been allowed to suit up and go in with her. She had been awake the whole time, had been able to hear but not see or feel what was happening.

The babies hadn't cried. Neither of them. She had glanced to the side and seen the doctor working over one tiny form, and then another doctor doing the same beside him.

The first cry was Tommy. It was a plaintive, tiny sound, but it made Anna weep, and Daniel with her. Jake's cry had come later, had been even smaller, if that was possible.

She hadn't been able to hold them.

They were in the NICU while she was recovering, and as soon as she was well enough to sit in a wheelchair, Anna demanded to see them. They were both so tiny, with little tubes and wires covering them, the smallest diaper seeming to dwarf their teeny bottoms. She'd cried some more, when Jake developed a fever, when Tommy dropped weight instead of gaining it.

It wasn't until the doctor put them in the same little incubator, at Anna's suggestion and Daniel's insistence, that they'd started to thrive. Only a week after being put together, they were both looking much better, and Anna got to hold them for the first time. Tommy had been quiet and calm, taking everything in with wide eyes when he was awake, sleeping soundly when he slept. Jake had seemed ornery even then. He'd squirmed and kicked during both waking and sleeping hours, and he cried angrily and loudly when something wasn't going his way.

xxxx

Looking down at her sleeping son, watching with a small smile as he kicked out every so often, Anna couldn't help but think that things hadn't changed much.


End file.
